Skyrim: War of The High Born
by TheAmericanAlchemist
Summary: Skyrim has once again been reunited by the Empire of Tamriel. But not is well within the Empire. With the death of Titus Mede II, the Aldmeri Dominion decided to finality destroy the Empire of men once and for all. But not all hope is lost for the Empire. For there is the Dragonborn to save the day! Will the Dragonborn drive The Dominion out of Skyrim? The story goes on!
1. Prologue

Skyrim: War of the High Born

Prologue

Months have passed since the end of the bloody civil war. The legion victorious and the rebel Stormcloacks have fled to the wilds of Skyrim. But even with the enforcement of Empire Skyrim is still weak and vulnerable. The fire of the world eater Aldein has been extinguished but dragons still fly over the skies of skyrim.

The Sea of Ghosts

The sea was quiet. The sound of snow falling into water and of creaking rigging of the ships as they sailed was all you could hear. The snow was thick as dragon scales and was just a as cold. It was dark as it could be. All you could see were the small flames and the outline of large ships. There was one ship in the center of the fleet that dwarfed the rest. On the front end of the ship stood a tall figure in a long black robe. The figure was looking out into the sea. Behind him someone was coming. He had a touch that lit the deck and his face. The man was a bosmer or wood elf as some might call them. As he came in to reaching distance of the figure, he stopped. The figure turned around revealing that he was Altmer or High elf.

"What is it now Monthala?" The Altmer asked in bothered tone.

"My lord you should come inside. I have your meal ready." There was a quiver in his voice as he spoke to him. The Bosmer Monthala was wearing a battered old tonic that people of low class or slaves would wear.

"I'll come in soon… has news came from General Olqua?" As he spoke he turned and looked out to sea once more.

"I have been told the ships from Valenwood are having difficulty with the weather. The Imga warriors have become irritated with the cold. Is there an order you wish to relay?" As he ask the Altmer lord turned back around and stared at him with his golden eyes. The bosmer cringed as his master turned around, thinking he would be punished or just use him as a punching bag out of anger.

"No they will get over it. I don't have time to deal with dirty apes. I'm guessing this is your first time going this far north." He turned his head to look at him with a questioning eyes.

"I haven't; it's quite cold" Monthala was shivering a bit and you could see his breath.

"Just wait; It will get a lot colder when we reach Skyrim. I'm going to have to get you warmer clothes or you're going to get frostbite. By the way, have we past Highrock?" as he talked he was heading towards his quarters with his Bosmer cabin boy trailing behind.

"Yes sir. We are now in Skyrim waters. The captain said we should be in Solitude in haft a day." They stopped suddenly at the door and the Altmer turned to face him.

"Good; tell the troops to prepare. We will be taking on general Tullius. It will be a long battle. For this is the beginning of glorious new age. It will be the new age of mer! Time of men is over! Soon the Aldmeri Dominion will control all of Tamriel."

"As you wish lord Volanare."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The fleet was cloaked in a massive invisibility spell and was inside of the harbor. It was midday and everything was fine at first but then fire rained down from the heavens as catapults fired from land and sea as the cloak was unveiled. The battle for Solitude had begun. Igma warriors claimed the wall while Thalmor soldiers and wizards stormed the gate. The city guards had never seen anything like this before. Giant apes came over the wall and opened the up a path inside for the rest of the soldiers. Blood ran down the cobble streets as the battle went on. One by one each imperial soldier and city guard fell to the invaders. Screams from woman and children littered the air with the smoke that filled it. Men flying through as the Igma flung them around like rag dolls. Men in flames, socked to death, impaled by ice and all my by the hands of Thalmor wizards that cast them.

At the Blue Palace everyone ran around like mad bees making makeshift barricades. Every single piece of furniture was used to secure the door. Behind the door and up the stairs stood General Tullius , Legate Rikke, and High Queen Elisif. Both General Tullius and Rikke had their swords unsheathed.

"I away had a feeling this would happen…" General Tullius spoke to Rikke in an almost joking tone.

"Sir I just wanted you to know that it has been an honor serving under you." Rikke said to the old General. They were both looking down at the door just waiting for it to burst open.

"High Queen Elisif you would escape while we hold them of here." The general turned to Elisif. She was standing behind them looking calm and collected.

"I will not leave my people here to die!" she put her foot down on the very thought of leaving.

"If you die the Imperil hold on Skyrim will die with you! You must go, I beg you please." The old General sheathed his sword and turned to the stubborn Queen. At first his words were as harsh as his expressions but has he when on it softened. Elisif was dumfounded to the point where she could not speak and she nodded her head in submission.

"Ok I will have Legate Rikke escort you out of the city through a secret path. I will also have… You over there come over here." The General looked away from Elisif to some random soldier that was running by with a piece of lumber to help with the barricade. The soldier quickly dropped the lumber and ran to Tullius with "sir" and an imperil salute.

"What's your name, soldier?" He placed his hand on the shoulder of the man in front of him.

"My name is Malpen Hanotepelus, sir." Malpen replied in a deep voice. Malpen had to be in is early 20's and had a scare down his right eye.

"I want you and Legate Rikke escorts the High Queen out of the city. I also what you to find this man. He will be my replacement." Tullius pulled out a piece of paper with a name on it and handed it to Malpen.

"Are you sure you want him in charge of the Legion?" Rikke looked at the name that was on the paper and then looked Tullius with a concerned face. Then suddenly the sound of the elven hoard reached the door of the Blue Palace and then the sound of a battering-ram hitting the door.

"Yes I'm sure! Now get the Oblivion out of here before they barge in!" As General Tullius yelled at them to go he turned to the door and drew his sword. As the three started to head out, Rikke stopped to look at him for this was perhaps the last time she will see him alive. She quickly joined the others in the basement. The tunnel was underneath the basement of the Palace. They closed the hatch behind them and locked it to prevent any one to follow. The tunnel was more like a spiral stairs that led all the way down to the bottom of the column of rock that supports Solitude.

Just as they made their way down, above them the front door of the Palace flung open sending all barricades flying agents the wall with such force that they shattered. One by one soldiers in golden armor came running and surrounded General Tullius in a ring of death. There was no escape and a single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. As he prepared to fight to the death raising his sword but then he saw a tall sallowest walk in.

"That won't be necessary General Tullius, I now control Solitude." The Sallowest walked through the ring of death to Tullius revealing that it was Lord Volanare. He was a rather tall Altmer, having to look down upon the General from one end of the ring. He walked past the General to the throne and sat down in a rather relaxed position with hand stroking his small beard and with an evil grin that would make Molag bal cringe in fear. Tullius just glared at him as his grip on his sword became more intense.

"I thought you were dead…" Tullius's blood was boiling and his teeth were grinding. His anger was as plain as day.

"It has been a while my old friend. How long as it been since was saw each other? Maybe 30 or 40 years?" Volanare's tone was almost friendly but in a sinister way.

"It's been 47 years! How in Oblivion did you survive?!" the General shouted at him while he pointed at him with is left hand.

"That's not important right now. Where is the High Queen?" Volanare replied with a stern voice as he stood up from the throne.

"You think I would tell you that?!" Tullius replied hotly.

"I thought you would say that…" Volanare raised his hand and made a loud snap. Suddenly three soldiers came out from the crowd. Two of them grabbed his arms as the other dabbed a strange potion onto a cloth. Then he shoved the cloth into Tulluis's face. As he struggled he breathed it in. He could feel his mind become clouded and his limbs became numb. More and more he struggled less until his knees gave in and he tumbled to the ground. Volanare walked over to him and crouched down to his level.

"Where did you send the High Queen?" He asked one more time.

"To…. The…. Dragonborn…."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Fire was in the air as the dragon soared through the skies over Whiterun. With its bronze wings it dove down with extreme prejudice toads a farm house outside of the city. The house was instantly tuned into raging inferno with the owner running out of his home in flames. One by one, each and every house outside the city was systematically burned as if it was luring something out of the city. As it soared over the city one more time, it saw something. From up above it saw that it different from the grads and citizens that was running around Whiterun. With dragon's golden eyes it could tell that it was person and was running to the gate. The unknown person was wearing daedric armor that was blacker than night. That is when the dragon found its real target. It banked left and circled the city to a little way past the Whiterun stables. The stables were in flames, along with the horses that dwelled there. The air was thick with black smoke that billowed from the stables. The smell of burning flesh was overwhelming but was quickly dissipated by the gust of wind from wings of the dragon that hovered overhead. Below, stood the unknown person in the daedric armor and bravely wheeled a daedric war ax at the mighty beast.

"Joor Zah Frul!" From his voice came a thunderous thu'um that splintered and ached the dragon's very soul. It was experiencing what it was like to be mortal. It was too much for the dragon as it fell out of the sky with thump that shook the ground. It had landed feet first and was still feeling the effects of the thu'um. Even though the thu'um had not worn off, the dragon could still breathe fire at the mysterious man in daedric armor. Hate filled its heart and its jalls opened to let out a wall of fire that was hot as the sun. The man, with the power of the Voice, dove behind a large rock to shield himself from the fire and stayed there until it stopped. In his left hand, he had a spell ready. He released the energy and summand a dremora lord witch drew the dragon's attention away from the man. The dremora lord hastily charged at the dragon with his great sword while the man in the daedric armor sneaked around to neck near the shoulder of its wing. He then began to climb onto back of the dragon. It began to shake violently trying to knock the man of its back its neck, but to no prevail. The man in the daedric armor had to strong of a grip on one of the dragons horns. He began hacking violently at the dragons head with his war ax. Strike by strike, blood came splattering out like someone hit a barrel of tomatoes with a large hammer. Then the final strike landed deep within the dragon's brain leaving a final splat of blood on his helmet. The monstrous beast went deathly limp and slumped on to the ground. The man yanked his war ax out of the dragon's head and jumped on body. The body began to smolder and burn as the flesh started to disappear with a gust of wind. The wind wasn't ordinary; you could see it was coming out from the body itself with magnificent colors. The sight was like colored ribbons flying around in the air. It was the dragon's soul and was enveloping the unknown warrior as if he was drawing it in. As the colors began to fade and the wind began weaken, the warrior removed his helmet. He revealed himself to be an imperial with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. For an imperial to have blond hair and blue eyes is not a common trait. But in his face you could tell that he was a son of the heart land of the Empire.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his deep blue eyes. His hair was long and was braided on each side of his face. He had worked up a sweat and was tired. He turned to look at what was left of the dragon and smirked. With is helmet on one side of him he began to walk back to the city. But before he got more than a few steps as many as five Whiterun guards along with Commander Caius came running up to him and the skeleton of the dragon. Among the sound of aw and amazement, Commander Caius walked to the Imperil with a face of concern.

"Is it dead, Orland?" The Commander addressed the Imperil by his first name with a concerned look on his face. He knew this man very well indeed. Orland Flarugrius was his full and had a grin on his face. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the Commander. Then Orland pointed with his free hand to the mangled heap of bones.

"I pretty sure it is dead. So what is so important they sent you outside the city to get me, my friend?" Orland lowered his arm and asked in a friendly way as looked at the Commander once more. His grin began to fade as looked into the Commander's eyes. In his eye gave grave unspoken news that something happened, something very unseen and unexpended.

"Jarl Balgruuf and the gests need to have a word with you… We must make hast for it's safer inside the city wall. "Commander Caius told Orland in nervous tone and was eyeing the surrounding area with his eyes wide open.

"What's going on?" with a concerned look he asked.

"There is no time. Once we get to Dragonsreach everything will be explained" The Commander answered with frustrated tone. Orland shook his head in compliance and the commander gave a hand jester to the five guards. Then one at a time each guard assumed their position to protect the Imperial. The guard was station one on each side and one in front of him and one behind. There was also a guard walking backwards with a bow at the ready. The Commander walked infant of them all until they reached the city gate. They stopped and the Commander looked up at the two sentry towers on either side of the gate.

"Open the gate!" He ordered as it echoed through the rest of the men. On the other side the massive door was barricaded with lager plank of lumber. The barricade was moved by two men on each side of it and the door swung open. Once they were all inside the guards and the Commander seem to relax. The middle age commander looked over to the sun which was getting ready to set and give way to the night. Orland at this time was staring at him with extreme concern. Ideas of what might have happened raced through his mind as he looked at him. But before he could speak his mind, the Commander stopped looking at the setting sun wiped his forehead. He was sweating profusely out of shear anxiety. Beads of warm salty liquid rolling down on the yellow cloth that that raped around his chainmail armor that was typical of the guards of Whiterun. Orland, seeing that he was having trouble, pulled out a piece of cloth from in-between his armor. The cloth was dirty and dull for it was the same cloth he used to wipes the grime of battle of his armor and weapons. Orland handed the cloth over to the Commander. He looked at the cloth and then looked at Orland.

"Thank you... please, forgive me, we must be going now." He handed the cloth back to Orland and stared to walk to Dragonsreach. It was a long and quite walk to the cloud districted of Whiterun. No one talked the whole was to the Keep. The Commander and Orland walked up the giant door way to Dragonsreach and entered. The guards didn't fallow their job was over and a new one had begun. They had to make sure nobody else would enter, so they lined up shoulder to shoulder in front of the door way.

Inside, Jarl Balgruuf was not on his throne and his dunmer housecarel Irileth was not at her normal spot ether. Seeing this they both headed to the war room behind the main hall. When they entered in to the room Irileth was standing in the top of the stairs. She was guarding the room and gave a unwelcoming frown to Orland as they made their way in. Irileth did not like Orland very much even though he was a Thain of Whiterun. It was more of an air of dislike between the two, but it was one sided. Orland had no quarrel with her. The only reason he could come up with was that he was good friends with Jarl Balgruuf. Their friendship made her very uneasy and somewhat angered her.

As they walked to the table that had a large map of Skyrim, they saw that four people huddled around the table. They were pointing to towns and city, using hand gestures directed at one another. It was as if they were planning their next move. This strange mix of people consisted of Jarl Balgruuf, Legate Rikke, Legate Quentin Cipius and High Queen Elisif. All of they were talking to themselves until Jarl Bulgruuf noticed Orland. He looked up from the map hand silenced the rest of them.

"Orland it is good to see you my friend! Good work on that dragon by the way." The Jarl quickly left his spot around the table. As he made his way over to Orland the others followed. The celebrated hero of all of Skyrim, the Dragonborn, was very confused as the High Queen of Skyrim and the Right Hand of General Tullius walked over to him. Orland bowed his head and looked at the floor. Once again the ideas of what might have happened rushed through his head, but his trail of thoughts were interrupted by the High Queen.

"Orland it is good to see you. I hope you are doing well." Her voice was calm and soothing, which seemed to help the very tired and confused Dragonborn. Once his mind was clear, he was able to come up with a question and gave a bow.

"Your highness, I was not expecting you to be here. What brings you all the way from Solitude?" He came up from his bow and looked into High Queen Elisif's eyes. She blushed a little bit as he gave into her eyes. Elisif had grate fondness for him. He was also a Thain of Solitude, along with the rest of the holds of Skyrim. Orland had saved Solitude from numerous kinds of dangers in the past. Each time she saw him her heart pounded harder and harder.

"I… Ummm… Solitude…." She found herself unable to speak as she gazed into his dark blue eyes. Legate Rikke, seeing her Queen was having trouble stepped in.

"Solitude has been attacked by the Thalmor. General Tullius has been taken prisoner by the enemy. We also have heard that the Thalmor has been attacking cites although out the Empire, but we can't say for sure. This looked to be all out invasion. It seems with the death of our Emperor, the Thalmor found it a perfect time to strike." Orland was shocked by this information. He could barely make a sound and was in a state of disbelief. A man in Imperial infantry armor came walking up to him that was standing to the side near the wall and handed him a letter with The Imperial seal on it.

"My name is Malpen Hanotepelus. General Tullius gave this to me before we left Solitude." Orland took the letter form Malpen and began to read it.

_Dear Legate Orland Flarugrius,_

_If you are reading this, I have been taken captive or I have died by enemy hands. In my stead I would wish you to lead are forces to victory. Therefore I pass the rank of General and the Governor General of Skyrim over to you. There is no other warrior better suited for this task than you. Skyrim has been my home for many years now. So I do not wish harm to come to this land nor do I wish the lands of the Empire to fall to the Thalmor. This will be the last order I give to you, save the Empire. Long like the Empire of Tamriel!_

_General Tullius_

As he finished reading a prideful smile came to his face. Orland looked at the anxious crowd of people and spoke.

"Looks like I have some work to do."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Deep within the bowels of the Castle Dour dungeon, General Tullius was chained to a wall; the chains where just long enough to have his hands rest lightly on the ground with his palms facing down. He was asleep and was slumped agented the wall. It was very dark in his cell for it was not a normal cell. Volanare being a magic prodigy, had casted a spell on the day he was placed in there. From the outside, there was a black magical barrier that prevented light from entering. Another one blocked the window. The only time they would let the barrier down was for him to eat. But food was not regularly given. For the six days he had in there, he was only allowed to eat once. The meals he was given consisted of stale bread and small bowl of gruel. They used magic to torture him, but Volanare had someone else deal with him. There was a masked mage that came inform time to time to force information, but they could never get secrets out of him, which gave them another reason to hold back his meals.

On the sixth day of his imprisonment the barrier was lifted and the light rushed in. Tullius, blinded by the light, raised his hand to shield his eyes. He was in the dark for all that that time, the only exception being when the guards came in for _questioning_, and even then, it was only torch light. With blurred vision, he was able to see that there was people at the door way. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed that they brought in a rather large, elegant table and a pair of arm chairs which matched the table. Seeing this compelled General Tullius to try stand but couldn't because of staggering pain. The long lasting effect of the strange potion, that they forced him to breathe in the day he was imprisoned, caused him to fall.

Both of the men chuckled at the sight of the Great General fall from his usual high and mighty position. They rather enjoyed seeing the enemy squalor and squirm, for it was a personality trait of all Thalmor agents. After they had their fill of the suffering of the General, they went back to their work. Two more men came in with dinner plates, challises, forks, spoons and knives. The whole dinner set was of the highest quality silver and hand engraved with a family crest on the rim of the challises and plates; handles of the forks spoons, and knives. They began to set the table with great care and grace. When the four Altmer men had finished setting the table turned their attention over to Tullius. One of the men unlocked him from the wall while the rest heaved him onto a one of the arm chairs. The General being too weak to move was unable to force them off of himself. The rush of him trying to stand pumped the poison harder throughout his blood stream.

"I swear… Once I…. get free… I'll kill…all of you…" His breath was heavy and his speech was slurred. As they began to tie him to the chair he noticed, with his blood shot eyes, the family crest on the silver challis. The suffering General instantly saw through a filter of pain that turned into pure hate and disgust. He knew that crest very well for it came from his oldest friend and enemy. Seeing this made his teeth grind and his blood boil. He turned and looked into the door way, and there he was with a benevolent grin on his face.

"Volanare, you scum!" the General spat. His eyes were trained on Volanare, like a snake ready to strike. As sick as he was with pale face and blood shot eyes he could still struggle try to get free. There is nothing more that General Tullius would love to do that to strangle the live out of his body with his bare hands.

"Now is that any way to treat an old friend?" Volanare feigned hurt. "After all that I have done to set up this grand feast." He moved from the door way to the char on the opposite end of the table from the General. One of his goons pulled the chair out for him and he proceeded to sit down. As the two sat waiting for the food not much was said. Tullius was using this time to study his old friend.

Volanare was rather odd Altmer. He was much taller than the rest of the high elves in the room and was of medium build. His hair was long and straight and the color was that of light gold. It seemed as he never cut it for end of his hair reached his lower back. Everything else about Lord Volanare just screamed Thalmor, from head to toe. Then there was his scar. It almost seemed out of place on him but yet fitted him well. The scar on his face almost covered the left side of his face. It ran down from his mid forehead to the bottom of his left cheek. Volanare, upon seeing Tullius gawking at his scar, chuckled. He ran his fingers down the side of the scar with his eyes closed, remembering the past with a low hum. Memories of his childhood and young adulthood flash before his eyes. Then he opened them and saw the face of a childhood friend, General Tullius. Who seemed very irritated but too exhausted from struggling to even move.

"Do you remember growing up in the Imperial City together?" He asked, and then sighed out of mock nostalgia. "Those were the days, weren't they?" He continued to reminisce. "I remember a certain Redguard girl—oh what was her name?" He thought to himself, but then snapped his finger, "Senynd Hawker, sweet girl; and you were quite fond of her, weren't you?" Volanare's words were wrapped in veil of sickeningly sweet venom that struck the General in his core. But this was unbeknownst to him in his vision of the past.

"Why would you even go there you traitorous bastard?" Tullius cried out. "I loved her and yet you…" Tullius' reply was interrupted by a plate of food placed in front of him. His eyes widened. The smell of roasted mutton, and seasoned potatoes filled his nostrils. The man behind him filled his goblet with Colovian Brandy, a personal favorite of his. Another server came into the cell with Volanare's food. He was Volanare's personal Bosmer servant, Monthala. Along with the food he carried a long rectangular wooden box, no longer than his forearm. After placing the box and the food on the table in front of Volanare, Monthala took a few steps behind him. The General, unable to eat or drink without aid for the servants; he looked at the box with growing curiosity. Seeing this, Volanare opened the box with a smile that would seem to sinister even for the likes of him. Inside was odd looking frost blue dagger that chilled the air around it. Tullius had never seen anything like it, as Volanare took it out of its case.

"It beautiful, isn't it?" Once again a wicked grin came to his face. This angered Tullius to point of utter madness. But calmed himself by concentrating on the beauty of the blade.

"I have never seen anything like it. What kind of metal is it made?" The General was tired and almost hypnotized by color of the blade. He was also a little drunk from the very strong Colovian brand. A servant behind him helped him eat and drink since he was tied to the char.

"It's not made of any sort of metal," He trailed off. "It's ice." He slammed the blade into the table startling the weakened feeble General causing him almost to choke on his own food.

"What are you talking about; that can't be ice?!" He snapped back at him after regaining himself. Volanare gave a long drawn out sigh because of Tullius' lack of knowledge will pulling out the dagger from the table and placing it in the box.

"It's made of Stalhrim, or enchanted ice." He explained. "I had sent a ship, Solstheim, to bring back Stalhrim weapons and armor, but the ship never came back…" He paused for a moment, contemplating what to say next. "Only one agent came back; he told me he was out on reconsece when he saw a stranger approached Ancarion, the wizard in charge."

"He kept his distance and saw Ancarion get blown away, with his own eyes, by some kind of shout. He went on to say that the rest of his comrades were slated left and right. Also on top of all that this man burned the ship." Volanare finished, but then thought again. "When I heard this I knew it was the Dragonborn; Orland Flarugrius." Tullius remained silent while he was talking, just staring at him with fire in his eyes. His anger and frustration was at the boiling point. Questions rushed through his head. _How does he know about Orland?_

"How do you know about him?" Tullius finally spoke after long silences. There was a look of intense worry on his face

"You really don't think that we _don't_ have information on him?" He laughed. "He is the first Dragonborn since Tiber Septim and is a threat to the Dominion!" He raised his voice as he spoke, growing irritated of Tullius. He was cracking a smile as Volanare finished talking.

"You're scared of him aren't you!" he chuckled "I wouldn't blame you!" He went on chuckling in a somewhat hoarse laugh. He only stopped when he started to cough very violently. Volanare sneered.

"What is so damn funny!"He replayed, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.

"You are going to die soon." He stopped cough and laugh more. "You are a dead man walking!" Tullius went on laughing even harder than before. Volanare walked over to his side of the table then punch him in the face so hard he knocked him over, taking the chair with him. The general was momentarily silent but continued to chuckle. This made him so angry that he marched out of the room. He was tailed by Monthala with the box.

"Clean up this mess!" he ordered the remaining men inside of the cell. He then proceeded to shut the cell door and walk away. As they walked out of the dungeon all was silent. Then he stopped at door.

"Manthala…"he calmly said.

"Yes my lord" he replayed

"I want you to send a message to the Captain of the Elite Guard." He ordered calmly. "I want The Dragonborn Orland Flarugrius dead! And make sure they carry the Stalhrim weapons!" He opened the door and walked out.

"As you wish Lord Volanare…"


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The days were long and spread out. It has been two weeks since Orland Flarugrius was appointed The Military Governor of Skyrim. Every day since then, he sent out couriers with flyers to all the holds that weren't controlled by the Thalmor. By this time they had taken Downstar and were ready to attack Winterhold. In the remaining holds the flyers were doing their job, bringing people to fight for him. In the flyers told the masses that no matter what your race or background you were welcome to come and fight for Skyrim, and for the Empire. Also it said that The White-Gold Concordat no longer held baring of the Empire thus the ban on the warship of Talos has been lifted. Farmers, bandits and even former Stormcloaks heard the call to arms against the Thalmor. Outside of Whiterun, tents and wooden fortification surrounded the entire city like a ring in a tree. Orland looked out from the balcony of Dragonsreach. As he leaned on the railing looking down at his men as they scattered around like ants around fires, he thought out loud in a whisper "Still not enough…"

Then he thought of his home in the Pale and his family. Orland sent a small unit to bring them to Whiterun, but that was days ago. He began to fear the worst. Orland's forehead became damp as a vision of his family been taken captive. He saw them plain as day in his head, then dragged from their beds and gaged. His boy taking out the dagger he had given to him not long ago and stab at an Altmer in the chest killing him. Then executed, one by one in pure white snow as blood pours out of their necks; turning the snow crimson. Then the vision was gone. He took several minutes to figure out what just happened. It was like a divine being gave him the vision as a worsening. By this point his forehead was drenched. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone walk towards him. Orland turned to see that it was Jarl Balgruuf behind him with a small grin on his face.

"Orland, my friend!" he said loudly in a thick Nordic accent "I have been looking all over Dragonsreach for you." Then he looked at him closer. "Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine" Orland replied and wiped his forehead with his tunic, which was old and full of holes. This tunic was what he would wear to tend the garden at his house. "Is there something wrong?"

"No there is nothing wrong." The grin came back to his face "There is something I do wish to show you." The Jarl waved him over to the great door into the war room. When they were both inside and the door shut, Orland saw all of the respected people of Whiterun huddled around two large wooden kegs of mead. The Priestess Danica Pure-Spring from the Temple of Kynareth was there. The Gray-Manes and the Battle-Borns were there in the same room, which is a miracle in its own right. The High Queen was there along with Commander Caius and a few other guards. Legate Rikke and a few of Orland's of there legate were there. All of the inner circle of the Companions including Eorlund Gray-Mane. He was standing next to a very lofty trapped object.

"Well what do we have here?" Orland said with surprise in his voice "A party?"

"That's right my friend." The Jarl piped up behind wile placing a hand on his shoulder. "This is a celebration for you. It's just a small thing to say thank you for all you have done in the past for Skyrim and her people, and what to come."

"Ay lad, we also have a gift for you." Eorlund Gray-Mane said while turning to pull of the tarp off. Underneath was armor set like Orland has ever seen. It was similar to what most Generals of the Empire would wear, including Tullius; but this made heavy steel. The detailing of armor was inlayed with gold and the Imperil Dragon in the center of the chest plate was a crimson red representing the courage of the people of the Empire. There was a cape on the back that touched the ground with elegance; it was the same color as the dragon on his chest. The helmet was just as beautiful as the armor with a frill that was made of horse hair that was dyed to match with the cape. In the center of the helmet the Dragon again showed just below frill. The face of the shield was the Dragon; it took up the entire shield. From the top of the frill to the bottom of the boots, the entire set screamed _"Son of the Empire"._

"Did you smith this, my friend?" Orland walked over to the set feeling the armor and admiring the craftsmanship. "It's beautiful."

"Ay, but I had help with the Imperil smiths for some of the detailing." The old smith pointed to some of the embellishing that painstakingly took several days and nights to make. "It may look pretty and delicate, but it make of Skyforge steel." The man said in a firm and sturdy voice. Orland smiled at him and then turned to the rest of the room of people. His expressions were cheerful and had much to do with the kindness of his friend.

"I thank you all to the bottom of my heart, friends." Orland's words were honest and wholehearted as he walked to each of the shaking hands or hugging. "Let's get this party started" He said as they all walked to the Great Hall of the keep with mugs of mead and ale in hand.

As the night went on, the halls of Dragonsreach were alive with the sounds of music, laughter and of cheer. Orland had sent the men around the city mead and ale with only one order "Have fun." said his officers. As the hours past the more t Orland drank and danced. Elisif eyed him from across the room in a drunken haze as she sat at the table next to the fire. Her desire for him grows stronger with every passing glance and stare. But in her heart she felt like she has betrayed her dead husband, Torygg. Also in her head she knew Orland was a married man. But that in mind she still had steadfast feeling for him. She couldn't help herself, but yet all she could do is just sit there with her mead. Her admiring over Orland didn't not go unseen, legate Rikke was watching her gaze quietly at him. She knew how much she felt for him, so she went up to her Queen.

"Is this seat taken?" Rikke ask Elisif pointing to the chair next to her.

"No, it isn't" she looked a Rikke and back to her mead. "You may sit." She plopped in the chair next to the High Queen, taking a big swig from her ale. Rikke was wearing a fine blue dress that dangled just ever so slightly over her ankles. It wasn't something she wore often but it was special night. After Elisif took a small sip out of her mug and turned her attention to Orland, who was participating in drinking contest with Farkas. Orland was keeping up a steady pace while Farkas struggled. The all the men were standing around the table with coin in hand taking bets.

"I see you fancy are newly appointed General." Rikke made a comment that she wouldn't normally say, but she was drunk like everyone else. The already rosy Queen turned to see the very amused Legate.

"I do not!" She exclaimed. "I have no such feeling for him." in the background Farkas finally collapsed off his stool and Orland stood wobbly in victory while the men cheered him on. Elisif look over at him and for a moment there gazes met. Her heart was a flutter. She immediately looked down with her eyes wide open while her face turned the color of tomato.

"You should go and talk to him." Seeing her head over heels make the war harden Legate smile "I'll go with you." In the High Queen's mind something was sparked, you could see the cogs turning in her head. Then at the end of her brain storm, she finished her mead and slammed it on the table. She had make her resolve to go and talk to him. The two of them made their way across the great hall and found a staggering Orland laughing about something Vilkas said about his brother past out on the floor. After he was done with the hysterics, Orland scraped his foot and bowed in front of High Queen Elisif. Being drunk he wasn't as graceful as he wanted it to be. He almost fell flat on his head.

"My Queen," he said slurred "would you join me for a drink?" Even when drunk, Orland emitted a warm aura that make her heart race.

"I would lo…" Just as she was about to finish her sentence, a Dunmer by the name of Fadril Theray came bursting through the main entrance. He was young for Dunmer standers and was a battle mage that recently enlisted. The wide eyed dark elf was wearing heavy Imperial armor typical to most officers. Fadril was very gifted in the school of destruction magic and rose through the ranks quickly becoming a Legate of a Special mage unite that General Orland created to combat the wizards of the Thalmor. When Legate Theray reached his General, he saluted with feet closed.

"At ease!" Orland ordered and saluted with a drink in his hand.

"Permission to speak sir." The legate asked with a craggy voice.

"Permission granted." The young General said growing evermore irritated by the interruption. "What is it Legate? Did the men run out of drink?"

"No sir, there is a sizable force of Thalmor soldiers just outside of our fortifications" This gave news sent a wave that affected everyone in the room having a sobering effect to Orland. There was a long moment of silent all you could hear was the crackling of the fire pit.

"How many?" Orland broke the silent as he took swig from his drink.

"About a hundred and what seem to be five Igma worries…and a wagon." His voices seem to trail off into the distance while he waited for a reply. Orland just took grind and finished his mead, slamming the mug on the table behind him.

"Looks like we got a fight on our hands." He started to walk towards the war room. "Legate Rikke, Legate Theray you're with me. Looks like I'll be using this new armor after all."

About half an hour passed as they make their way down to the gate of the city. Orland was given a white horse to ride on to down to the barricade. Behind were the two legates that he ordered to follow, also on horses. The young General was in his new armor that gemmed with the light of the two moons. As they rode through the crowd of tents and camp fires, the men cheered as they passed. The men were shouting _"Show those milk drinkers no mercy!"_ and _"Talos guide you General!"_

When they were just outside of the makeshift gate; which was past the stables, they saw a wagon pulled up. This wagon that looked very similar the one he had at his home in the pale. In fact it looked exactly the same. After a few seconds of staring, a woman and three soldiers came out of the wagon with small wooden boxes. The Three soldiers were wearing glass armor form head to foot and the woman was wearing Thalmor hooded robs. Orland and the two legates proceeded to get of their horses and walk to who they thought was the leader. As they met in-between the horses and the wagon, the woman stepped forward and Orland did the same while removing his helmet.

"So you are the fabled General Orland Flarugrius, Dragonborn." The women said in a shrill tone that was sinister as she flashed a grin. "They didn't tell me that you were so handsome." She got even closer to Orland. "You would go great in my collection." She got so close that she almost touched his face with a lustful grin.

"FUS!" The Altmer woman was blown back a few steps bringing her to one knee. "Why don't you start with your name since you want to talk? Or if you want a fight let's get on with it." Orland was getting impatient and very disturbed by her last comment.

"Where are my manners!?" She said while getting back up, dusting the dirt and grim off her robes as she went. "My name Siltalma, Captain of Lord Volanare 's the Elite Guard." She said getting close once more. "I'm also a collector." Orland squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth. Her whole being just angered him.

"A collector of what?" He asked bluntly. She just stared to closer to him with eyes of desire.

"I collect humans." She said it so close to his face, she could have kissed him if she wanted to, then popped back and stared, making wild hand jesters. Orland stayed quiet as a fire grew inside of him. "I only collect Talos worshipers, but not just any worshipers. I collect only the good looking males." He remained silent as the fire turned into an inferno of pure disgust . "Sometimes I frame men of Talos worship, just so I could add their pretty faces to my collection as pets; but with you I don't have to!" She said very loudly and snapped her fingers. Two other soldiers came out of the mass of men and beast. They had something wrapped in a cloth that took two of them to carry. Captain Siltalma moved to the side as they placed the object on the ground in front of Orland, revealing that it was a Shrine of Talos. Orland recognized that it was the same one that he had in his basement. Then he remembered the vision he had earlier in the day, and then he realized what she did. He placed his helmet on his head and stared to breathe heavily and his boiling blood came to a roaring fire in his veins.

"Where is my family?!" He demanded. The Captain nodded to the men behind her with the boxes and they came forth and placed them on the ground next to the shrine.

"Why don't you have a look inside." She motion to the boxes on the ground. Orland dropped to his knees and opened the boxes. In each of the boxes where the heads of his son, daughter, and wife with their eyes still open and their faces stuck in horror. Orland closed the boxes and leaned his head over the boxes and he closed his eyes and stared to sob silently. Captain Siltalma walked over with a sadistic smile and placed her hands on her cheeks.

"AHHH! More! AHHH!" she said while crossing her arms on her chest as she squeezed her shoulders. "I want more of your suffering Oooh!" she went on clenching her shoulder harder. "It's Soooo delicious!" she began to quiver at the sight of his pain and anguish. Orland placed his hands on the boxes and pushed himself up slowly like a slug and turned his head to face his family's killer all while tears ran down his face. "OHHH YES! RIGHT THERE! OHHH!" she screeched. Her face was that of absolute bliss as she began to shake violently. Orland took a few deep breaths while then he began to sob uncontrollably.

"FUS RO DAH!" from the midst of his sobs came the most powerful thu'um that the face of Nirn has ever seen, blasting her backwards into wall of the stable house wall. On inpact, she went through the wall into the house stopping on the second wall. Orland stood up drew his Imperil sword and without hesitation decapitated the closest Thalmor thug. He grabbed the Stalhrim War axe of the headless corps and wedged it deep within the skull of the Altmer next him. Several Thalmor rushed into the seen as well as an Igma that toward over the elves, charging past them towards Orland.

"Rii Vaaz Zol!" This thu'um sliced through the flesh and shatters soul of the Igma warrior and within moments rose again. It turned to face the men that it past and with cowardly cries and shrieks of horror as the Zombie Igma grabbed the heads of two Thalmor and crushed them together in a spray of blood and gray matter over the faces of their fellow Altmer. By this time Orland's men joined the slaughter, cutting and slashing their way through the disorderly chaos of the dwindling numbers for what used to be an Elite Guard. All one hundred of the Altmer and five Igma worriers were wiped out within minutes while Orland was in the center of it all shouting fire and ice.

"Don't let any escape! KILL THEM ALL!" Orland shouted as a dozens of them started to retreat. "Odahviing!" From the sky came a red dragon that cut them off from panicked run. Death rained down from above as the dragon's fire killed the last of them. Orland had won.

About hour past since the end of the bloodshed and the men were searching the corpses. It was dawn now and the sun just started to peek out of the mountains. Captain Siltalma was found in the house, still breathing. So the young General had her tossed into the Dragonsreach dungeon after a healer saw her. Orland was watching the men search and count the bodies. His eyes were red and puffy and he was drenched in gore from head to toe. Legate Rikke and Legate Theray walked over bodies and the General.

"General, we have collected the weapons, just as you ordered." The legate Dunmer said in his craggy voice. "What should we do with the bodies?"

"Decapitate them, send their heads to their loved ones. After that, burn the rest." He said with hate in his voice. Rikke after hearing that she went to tell the men what to do "Oh and Legate Theray I have a special mission for you." Orland pulled out a letter out of his breast plate with and Imperial seal. "I want you to take this to Raven Rock in Solstheim." He handed the letter to the Legate who's look was very confused. "It's for Councilor Lleril Morvayn of House Redoran, he is a friend of mine." He paused for a moment and stared at the ground.

"Sir?" the Dunmer asked in concern. Orland looked up and all the life was drained from his blood shot eyes. There were thick black crescents under his eyes with dried blood all over his face. The expression on his face was that of a man who had lost everything and has nothing more to lose.

"Oh yes you don't have to worry about travel. You will be riding on Odahviing, the big red dragon over there." He pointed to the dragon over in the distance helping burn the headless bodies. But when he heard his name he came crawling over to the two of them, making the earth shake beneath them.

"Dovahkiin, I am ready to take the elf to Solstheim." Odahviing said in a low lumbering voice.

"Good. I want you to be at Raven Rock by noon tomorrow." He demanded and then turned to walk towards the city watching the ground as went by. Once he got to the gate of the city he saw that they left and were heading northwest torts Solstheim.

Over the Sea of Ghosts and a day later they had reached the island. From the air Solstheim looked like it had been cut in half. One side was filled with white snow with evergreen trees dotting the northern half. While the southern half was burned and covered with ash fall from Red Mountain. They flew over Raven Rock, causing the shop keepers and miners to run back into their homes in fear of an attack. They landed just outside of the ductworks. Seeing this, Captain Modyn Veleth and his men of the Redoran Guard quietly ran to were the Dragon landed. But when they got there why saw Dragon and a Dunmer in Imperil Armor. In utter disbelief that the dragon didn't kill him they Captain order his men to have their bow ready as he walk closer with his battle axe in both hands.

"Who are you and what are you doing here in Raven Rock?!" The Captain yelled.

"I'm Legate Fadril Theray of the Imperil Legion." He replied yelling all the same. "I have come to deliver a letter to Councilor Morvayn from General Orland Flarugrius."

"Wait did you say Orland Flarugrius? When did he become a General?" He said letting down his weapon. "Now that I think of it that does not matter right now. If you are a friend of Orland's than you are friend of mine and Raven Rock." He turned to his men. "Look alive men, we have an honored guest." All of his men lowered their weapons as well. "Come follow me to Morvayn Manor."

Once they were inside to Morvayn Manor, Fadril told them everything that had happen. How the Thalmor attacked the Empire and how Orland became a General and he told them what happened to his family.

"So Orland sent you to give me a letter?" Councilor Morvayn said after hearing his story.

"Yes sir." The legate handing him the letter. The Councilor studded the letter before opening it. Just as he was about to open it a Dunmer woman walked in form the front door. She was a real beauty with black hair that cascaded down her back. Her skin radiated with a softness that only certain women possess.

"Sorry madam we are in the mid…" Councilor Morvayn posed mid-sentence and was stunned. "I know you… you knew my mother… we thought you were dead!" she came closer and he stood up of his thrown "My I see your hand please!" she lifted her left hand with a smile and he grabbed it and study the ring on her middle finger. There was a moon & a star on the ring and it glowed with magical energy like nothing he had seen before. "It is you… The Nerevarine!"


End file.
